


Skants

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Dress Up, M/M, Seduction, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:37:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian wears something out of the usual: Garak is pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skants

Garak is on the second floor of the promenade when he sees it, and he is talking absent-mindedly with Constable Odo; a game of Terran chess is on the table between them. Garak has already eaten his lunch, and for now they sit and make idle (as idle as conversation between two people such as them can be) as they play.

Of course, now, he is somewhat distracted from the game.

Julian Bashir is _not_ wearing his standard Starfleet uniform.

“Garak?” The tailor flicks his head to the right, and he meets Odo's unimpressed and expectant gaze before offering him a pleasant and _soft_ smile. Garak's features aren't truly made for such tender facial expressions, of course, and so Odo's sculpted brow begins to furrow. He does not look away from the Cardassian.

“Apologies, my dear constable.” Garak says, and he knocks over his king with the back of his right hand. It hurts the competitive part of him, in all truth, but there is another primal drive he has an urge to satisfy, weak of him though it may well be. “It seems I've remembered a terribly _pressing_ engagement. We're as scheduled for next week?”

“Indeed.” Odo says, drawing out the “n” sound in order to create as much suspicion in his tone as is _truly_ possible, and Garak knows as he walks away that he'll undoubtedly be subjected to even more covert surveillance from his _dear_ friend this week than usual.

Quite worth it, however.

\---

“Oh, Jadzia-” Julian honestly is glad he finished blushing this morning, because otherwise Jadzia would be teasing him about the flush in his cheeks. She looks terribly amused – she's not harassing him or even poking too much fun at how he actually looks, but one or two compliments from her still manage to _liquefy_ some parts of his dignity, even after all this time.

“No, Julian, I'm just saying it _really_ suits you, and you should-” At the very least, she's doing her best to be _polite_ about it.

“I'm only wearing it because I have to – look, it's too tight, it doesn't even fit me properly any more-”

“Well, _tight_ works-”

“ _Jadzia._ ”

“It does! It suits you, as I said-”

“I don't want to look like an _underwear_ model, Jadzia, I just want to look professional-”

“You do look professional.” Jadzia is even doing her best to sound _reasonable_ , though the quirk to her lips and the way she looks ready to begin giggling is somewhat undercutting her attempt at innocence, in all truth.

“People keep _staring_ at my-”

“My dear _doctor._ ” And here it is. The expert's opinion. Julian turns, crossing his arms over his chest, and he regards Garak with a _scowl_ on his face, but immediately he's made to soften by the fact that Garak is almost grinning. Julian truly does enjoy seeing the other man smile, but all the same, the _reason_ is irritating. “Might I say, you do look terribly lovely this morning?”

Garak's gaze does not flicker down to Julian's bare, shaved legs as everyone else's has today, but Julian knows that's only because he's likely had his fill looking _before_ he approached.

“Jadzia, if you'll excuse us?” Dax chuckles, and she pats both of their upper arms affectionately before she walks off towards Ops. Julian begins to walk, and Garak moves to walk beside him, a pleased little smile remaining on his face as they make their way toward the infirmary together. “You like the skant, then?”

“I've never seen you wear one; I confess, it is a _pleasant_ change.” Julian lets out a _hmph_ of sound, knowing full well that Garak no-doubt likes it very much indeed, even if he's putting on some feigned naiveté. “What necessitated it, then?”

“I had a few bottles of Saurian brandy on my dresser, and I must have knocked the decanters over last night, and didn't notice. When I woke up in the morning it had dripped through _all_ of my clothes, except for the two skant uniforms and a few of my civilian outfits at the very bottom.”

“Ruined?” Garak asks.

“Well, I'm sure I can wash those that weren't too badly soaked, but it's strong stuff.” Julian mutters, and he glances down at himself: the skirt of the uniform stops short at his mid thigh, and there's a slight cinch at the waist to allow movement. It's really almost like wearing shorts instead of trousers, but for the skirt style over top. He's simply glad he shaves his legs as a matter of habit _anyway_ ,or he may have been late for duty in the panic of that morning.

“Shall I schedule you a spot for sixteen hundred hours, my dear?”

“If you would.” Julian says agreeably, and it's not so much the idea of the _tailoring_ that's important so much as it is scheduling the time with Garak, because Julian _knows_ what Garak is going to do with him once he has him alone. “I'm not going to wear it again, you know. It's slightly too small, tighter than is regulation; I wore it _years_ ago. I only kept it because throwing out a uniform seemed wasteful.”

“Quite alright, Doctor Bashir.” Garak says sweetly, and Julian oughtn't trust that obscene, _pleasant_ tone, but he's going to, as he always does. Reptilian, _infuriating_ bastard.

\---

“You already have my measurements, Garak.” Julian reminds him as Garak continues to drag his little sensor over Julian's body, expression concentrated as he does so.

“Well, we've made an appointment now, Julian. I feel it would be somewhat ridiculous to just send you home again.”

“You needn't send me home, Garak.” Julian retorts, and the Cardassian lets out a quiet, amused chuckle.

“So impatient.”

“I did wear the skant in expectation of _some_ reward.” Garak crouches to begin measuring Julian's inseam, and he's halfway through sighing before a hand slides up his bare leg and just a little up the skirt, stopped short by the fabric at its crotch.

“A shame. I was hoping for an actual skirt.”

“Not regulation. We climb ladders in Starfleet, Garak.”

“Is that so? I shouldn't mind watching you climb a ladder.” Julian tries to knee him in the shoulder, but Garak grasps at his leg and drags his mouth over the bared skin of Julian's knee, which is- _bizarre_ , sensationally, but looking down at Garak with his hands curled around Julian's calf is not _unpleasant._

“You definitely like the skant then?” Julian asks, voice coming through a little more breathless than before.

“Oh, most certainly. It's why I needed extra measurements, my dear. I'll make you one or two that are of _regulation_ tightness.” Garak's lip quirks. “If you promise to wear them, that is.”

“I would really appreciate if you brought me into your quarters and had me over your desk.” Garak's tongue darts out from his mouth and flickers over his bottom lip; Cardassians, so Julian has discovered, enjoy a lot of flirtation but don't _tell each other_ specifically what they want, most of the time. Actual stipulations of intent are somewhat _uncommon_ , and apparently something Garak enjoys.

“Well, then, _Julian,”_

“Elim.”

“I suppose I could be convinced to take you somewhere private.” He moves to stand, and then his lips press to the other's, and then he pulls back, letting out a quiet, amused chuckle against Julian's mouth. “ _If_ -”

“I promise.” Julian interrupts him, and Garak looks pleasantly surprised.

“Lying?” He asks; Julian shouldn't be too surprised.

“You've taught me well.”

“ _Tremendous._ ” Garak murmurs, and looks even more pleased than before.

 


End file.
